FROM THE ARCHIVES: ISSUE 001; Dated OCT 2, 1996
[Well here it is, without editing or apology. Keep in mind that this dates back to a time when the World-Wide Web was still something of a novelty. I'd like to point out that this predates Slashdot by at least a year, if not two. Also worth noting is that Perry Morrison's "Matrix" concept predates the movie of the same name by at least two years. I will apologize for the unfortunate formatting; the 'zine was not laid out for the dimensions of this display. -- S. Sloth, Travellist]
Now, without further adieu:
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eZine
Vol. 1, Issue 1
__________________________________________________________________________
Welcome to RepTIDE. This first issue has been a long time coming. I would
like that thanks everyone who have helped make this possible. I’m going to
start out with a little reptide history lesson.
The idea for RepTIDE started over a year ago. Although the original ideas
for the mag have not changed much, the intrest in the project has. When we
first started work on RepTIDE there were many who subscribed, however, we
did not receive one single submission for anoyone. After running into some
slight machanical errors (the entire project got lost due to wild and
unchecked rm’ing), the project was nearly scrapped. But alas, it has
prevailed, as evidenced by this, the first issue of RepTIDE.
We would like to see the project grow. Below are some questions and answers
you might have about our little eZine. As always, if your questions isn’t
answered below, feel free to mail us at any time. Directions on how to get
a hold of us are found twards the end of the publication.
Q: WHAT IS RepTIDE?
A: RepTIDE is a mulit-topical electronic publication devoted to writers.
It serves as an outlet for uncensored creativity, and is a chance by
which writers may easily and inexpensively get their material published
and get worldwide publicity and readership at the same time.
Q: WHERE IS RepTIDE BASED?
A: RepTIDE is based on a UNIX box running at Iowa State University. We
would like to extend our appreciation to Tim McIntos for providing the
precious hard-drive space.
Q: WHO WRITES FOR RepTIDE?
A: Anyone and everyone. We do not discriminate against anyone.
Q: HOW CAN I GET MY OWN COPY OF RepTIDE?
A: Simple, we are distributed via a mailing list. To subscribe to the mag
just send mail to: majordomo@knapp38.res.iastate.edu Be sure to put:
‘subscribe reptide_ezine’ in the body of the email.
Q: IS THERE ANY OTHER WAY I CAN GET RepTIDE?
A: Soon RepTIDE will be available via FTP and on out webpage.
Well, here we go with our first issue. We hope you enjoy reading it as much
as we did putting it together for you.
Jason Borgmann – EIC
This is a short, farcical science fiction novel in the mould of The
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. The plot is primarily
Earth bound and uses characters that are recognisably human or at least,
human caricatures. The novel is difficult to summarise because it is
heavily plot driven and frequently weaves together a number of parallel
plot lines that converge in the final chapters.
The opening chapters introduce the major characters, these being Cedric
Solzhenitzen–an apparently unremarkable mid-Western storekeeper, and
Jethro–an alien who appears human and manifests a New Age/hippy
demeanour. Jethro is a Travellist–an incredibly ancient and rare being
with remarkable powers that include the ability to traverse the universe
without technological aids via an energy field known as the matrix or
universal grid. However, although Travellists are capable of incredible
feats, rather than being technologically mediated, these powers are
generally innate, intuitive, unsystematic and haphazard. As characters,
they are depicted as immature, irrational, erratic, frivolous and impetuous
but
well meaning) clowns with pathetic memories, nonexistent planning skills
and an inability to handle responsibility in any form. In short, they are
likeable and funny, but unbearably exasperating.
The plot revolves around two assertions: firstly the predicted destruction
of Earth in six weeks by a rogue quasar and secondly the notion of the
matrix (and indeed the entire universe) as a living, self regulating entity
that has “grid-dumped” an unwilling Jethro (and his side kick Max) on Earth
at this critical moment in order to fulfil some crucial but unknown
purpose. Nevertheless, it is implied that their presence has something to
do with the quasar and the history of Earth as an uncivilised, noxious
irritant deep in the bowels of the living universe.
The novel introduces a range of bizarre characters including
Sister-Detective Mary McCoy (a monstrously obese Detective of the Los
Angeles Police Department and ordained Sister of the “Church of the
Inescapable and Incredibly Violent Wrath of God”, Rik Raytheon–a
“covert accountant” trained by US security agencies to extract, modify,
destroy or otherwise balance the books and records of covert operations or
sensitive installations. Raytheon is a ridiculous combination of covert
“insertee”, “pain trained”super operative, masochist and square jawed all
American. There is also Eleanor Bolton–a dominant, yet humorous, sexually
and socially aggressive woman who also happens to be the President of the
United States. She is assisted by “Frank”, a narcotics addicted alien
survivor of the 1947 Roswell UFO incident and General George Reiker, a
military caricature.
The major plot line seeks to determine the purpose for which Jethro and Max
have been grid-dumped on Earth and in the process, steadily reveals their
prior involvement in Earth’s development over many thousands of years. In
their search, the Travellists are assisted by Cedric and Rik and together
the foursome chase various leads across the physically and socially
devastated planet, meeting a kaleidoscope of characters who are silhouetted
against the inevitability of Earth’s destruction.
Meanwhile the greater cosmos takes enormous delight in viewing Earth’s
demise via the Intergalactic Jaarn Network–an event even more sensational
than the destruction of the dinosaurs. These episodes of intergalactic
voyeurism and snippets from the Travellists themselves, reveal that Earth
is regarded as a cosmic loony bin, unspeakably uncivilised and only fit for
various forms of cosmic vandalism, hooliganism, abuse and derision.
Jethro, the primary character, is obssessed by the notion of Gestalt. That
is, the notion that the experiences he shares with his colleagues are too
improbable to attribute to chance and that they are all engaged in a
cosmically assisted crusade. In the course of their odyssey, Jethro and Max
reveal that several million years ago, as part of a class project, they had
conducted DNA work that established human beings as a seperate species from
apes. Yet in the course of their experiments, they failed to provide humans
with two essential properties–firstly, a decent life span that would allow
sufficient time for superior moral and social development and secondly, a
genetic inhibition to killing members of their own species.
It is explained that Jethro dropped the vital test tube (or was bumped by
Max, depending on whose argument one believes) and that their typical lack
of organisation, planning and systematicity denied them the opportunity to
correct that mistake. Hence, humanity has suffered eons of war, anguish and
misery with occasional visits from the two Travellists in which they
attempted to behaviourally correct these mistakes through different
religious and moral interventions.
However, in accord with Jethro’s obssession with Gestalt, it transpires
that Cedric, their human companion, exhibits a form of fit that prevents
him from performing homicidal acts on other humans and Jethro and Max
identify this as a naturally occurring mutation, similar to the gene
sequence they dropped millions of years previously. In a further
demonstration of synchronicity, it is discovered that their other companion
Rik, was assigned to shut down a recombinant DNA facility before social
chaos intervened.
Together, the foursome make their way to the lab (which happens to be in
the bowels of the White House) and this facilitates an even more
improbable Gestalt by allowing the Travellists to meet the President of the
United States, as well as Frank and Reelak–the latter being a Jaarn
Network Presenter whom Jethro and his companions had been pursuing.
The meeting allows Jethro to continue his DNA work and his objective of
using a benign virus to infect the remainder of Earth\’s population with
Cedric’s homicide inhibiting mutation. It is postulated that the universe’s
intention to destroy the Earth might be pacified if some of the planet’s
noxious social properties were diluted. To this end, Jethro finds a
suitable biological vector for Cedric\’s DNA and applies it to a banana
which he delivers to the President.
Unfortunately, the banana cannot be utilised because the quasar
accelerates dramatically and all hope appears lost. The book’s conclusion
reveals a pangalactic conspiracy and a totally unexpected outcome for all
involved.
Perry Morrison Ph.D
For more info and ordering info go to:
http://www.taunet.net.au/perry/
> If Dr. Seuss wrote for Star Trek: the Next Generation…
>
> Picard: Sigma Indri, that’s the star,
> So, Data, please, how far? How far?
>
> Data: Our ship can get there very fast
> But still the trip will last and last
> We’ll have two days til we arrive
> But can the Indrans there survive?
>
> Picard: LaForge, please give us factor nine.
>
> LaForge: But, sir, the engines are offline!
>
> Picard: Offline! But why? I want to go!
> Please make it so, please make it so!
>
> Riker: But sir, if Geordi says we can’t,
> We can’t, we mustn’t, and we shan’t,
> The danger here is far too great!
>
> Picard: But surely we must not be late!
>
> Troi: I’m sensing anger and great ire.
>
> Computer: Alert! Alert! The ship’s on fire!
>
> Picard: The ship’s on fire? How could this be?
> Who lit the fire?
>
> Riker: Not me.
>
> Worf: Not me.
>
> Picard: Computer, how long til we die?
>
> Computer: Eight minutes left to say goodbye.
>
> Data: May I suggest a course to take?
> We could, I think, quite safely make
> Extinguishers from tractor beams
> And stop the fire, or so it seems…
>
> Geordi: Hurray! Hurray! You’ve saved the day!
> Again I say, Hurray! Hurray!
>
> Picard: Mr. Data, thank you much.
> You’ve saved our lives, our ship, and such.
>
> Troi: We still must save the Indran planet –
>
> Data: Which (by the way) is made of granite…
>
> Picard: Enough, you android. Please desist.
> We understand — we get your gist.
> But can we get our ship to go?
> Please, make it so, PLEASE make it so.
>
> Geordi: There’s sabotage among the wires
> And that’s what started all the fires.
>
> Riker: We have a saboteur? Oh, no!
> We need to go! We need to go!
>
> Troi: We must seek out the traitor spy
> And lock him up and ask him why?
>
> Worf: Ask him why? How sentimental.
> I say give him problems dental.
>
> Troi: Are any Romulan ships around?
> Have scanners said that they’ve been found?
> Or is it Borg or some new threat
> We haven’t even heard of yet?
> I sense no malice in this crew.
> Now what are we supposed to do?
>
> Crusher: Captain, please, the Indrans need us.
> They cry out, “Help us, clothe us, feed us!”
> I can’t just sit and let them die!
> A doctor MUST attempt — MUST try!
>
> Picard: Doctor, please, we’ll get there soon.
>
> Crusher: They may be dead by Tuesday noon.
>
>
> *COMMERCIAL BREAK, COMMERCIAL BREAK
> HOW LONG WILL THESE DUMB ADS TAKE?*
>
>
> Worf: The saboteur is in the brig.
> He’s very strong and very big.
> I had my phaser set on stun –
> A zzzip! A zzzap! Another one!
> He would not budge, he would not fall,
> He would not stun, no, not at all!
> He changed into a stranger form
> All soft and purple, round and warm.
>
> Picard: Did you see this, Mr. Worf?
> Did you see this creature morph?
>
> Worf: I did and then I beat him fairly.
> Hit him on the jaw — quite squarely.
>
> Riker: My commendations, Klingon friend!
> Our troubles now are at an end!
>
> Crusher: Now let’s get our ship to fly
> And orbit yonder Indran sky!
>
> Picard: LaForge, please tell me we can go…?
>
> Geordi: Yes, sir, we can.
>
> Picard: Then make it so!
>
>
> THE END
It is common practice in England to ring a telephone by signaling extra
voltage across one side of the two wire circuit and ground (earth in England).
When the subscriber answers the phone, it switches to the two wire circuit
for the conversation. This method allows two parties on the same line to be
signaled without disturbing each other.
Anyway, an elderly lady with several pets called to say that her telephone
failed to ring when her friends called, and that on the few occasions when it
did ring her dog always barked first. The telephone repairman proceeded to the
scene, curious to see this psychic dog.
He climbed a nearby telephone pole, hooked in his test set, and dialed the
subscriber’s house. The phone didn’t ring. He tried again. The dog barked
loudly, followed by a ringing telephone.
Climbing down form the pole, the telephone repairman found:
1. A dog was tied to the telephone system’s ground post via an iron chain and
collar.
2. The dog was receiving 90 volts of signaling current.
3. After several such jolts, the dog would start barking and urinating
on the ground.
4. The wet ground now completed the circuit and the phone would ring.
(Which shows you that some problems can be fixed by just pissing on them.)
Thoughts on Grunge
Unfortunately, the grunge scene didn’t die at the end of the same
shot-gun Kurt Cobain did, although, it should have. Take the following
story as an example.
I was sitting in my favorite coffee shop recently, sipping a slightly
strong cappuccino and reading some piece of forgotten lore. Much to
my suprise, I look up to see a haggard looking ‘kid’ sitting across
from me. I exchange the usual pleasantries and went back to my reading.
After what seemed to be only minutes the kid spoke.
“Do you think you’re cool or something?”
I now looked up interested, and for the first time took to actually
looking the kid over.
“What do you mean?”, I said.
“You think you’re some kind of grunge god? Sitting there
in your flannel, acting cool. Man, you don’t know the
first fucking thing about the grunge movement!”
I was utterly shocked. When he read the expression on my face, he
continued.
“Don’t deny it. You guys think it’s soooo alternative to
deny that you are trying to be alternative.”
At this point I am getting quite angry.
“Listen you _dolt_! It’s 20 _fucking_ degrees outside! I’m
a little cold. Now get the hell outta my face…”
To this he curtly replied:
“Poser.”
I then proceded to dump my luke-warm java on his head. I picked up
my book, and left the establishment.
The attitude of those who aren’t old enough to be called ‘GenerationX’,
but aren’t young enough to have their own ‘pet’ name bestowed on them
by the ‘ESTABLISHMENT’ is just about the last straw for me. I can
remember a time when the word “ALTERNATIVE” had meaning. However, in
today’s world, to be alternative means to hang out where you parents
don’t want you to be, wear clothes from a second-hand store, and to
listen to the likes of ‘Green Day’.
Long gone are the day of ‘true’ expirimentation. Where the sounds of
the outcasts were fresh, original, and down right unpleasant. In are
the days of the multi-million dollar, ‘alternative’ pop-icon. Gone are
the days of wearing clothes to keep the frost-bite of your hide. In
are the days of clothing that has meaning, instead of making a statement.
Kurt Cobain is dead. Elvis is dead. Why can’t the rhine-stoned, white,
jump-suits, and the flannel die with them? Why can’t I listen to who
I want, when I want and not be labeled? Why can’t todays teenagers let
go of the past and move on? We may never know the answers to these simple
questions.
In conclusion I leave some words of wisdom for the so-called alternative
youth of today. Ironically, they come from the father of their tribe.
“A denial, a denial, a denial…”
-Kurt Cobain
Gaston Gruvi
My foreman thinks I have more ability than I think I have.
So I consistently do better work than I thought I could do.
-Letter in GM Employee Contest
_My Job and Why I Like It_
HELP A NEARLY ABORTED LITTLE GIRL
Alicia’s mother suffered from an illness called Toxemia
It is a disease which can only be cured by terminating a
pregnancy. Because of this, the doctors recommended that
little Alicia be aborted. The mother, to her credit, absolutely
refused, even though it may have meant her own death.
Alicia was born two months premature and the family needs help.
Http://www.netcom.com/~duffster/alicia.html
A visit to this page will provide instructions on how to send
food, money and messages to the family.
If you wish to help spread the word. Please copy and post this
message to as many newsgroups as possible. Thank you.
And now we must bid you farewell for now. We sincerely hope you have
enjoyed the mag. We would love to hear your comments. Send them to:
reptide@knapp38.res.iastate.edu
Remember we are always looking for writers and new material. If you would
like to submit something, or know someone who might, send email to the above
address.
The RepTIDE Staff
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